


Like Real People Do

by kataurah



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24270106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kataurah/pseuds/kataurah
Summary: The first time they kissed was on a day that was only remarkable in how unremarkable it was.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Like Real People Do

**Author's Note:**

> Written during season 7 but can be viewed as post-canon. Set in a hopeful future where Carol has returned to Alexandria, and everyone is safe enough to take a moment to breathe. Cross posted at Nine Lives.

The first time they kissed was on a day that was only remarkable in how unremarkable it was. Before the Turn it would have been the kind of grey winter day where everyone lamented the awful weather, dragged themselves to work through the rain, and the lucky few sought refuge indoors with a warm sweater and a hot drink. The kind of dreary day where nothing happened.

In the world they lived in now, a day where nothing happened was as close to peace as they could get. As if in unspoken recognition of this, the community of Alexandria was quiet, the streets free of early morning risers, only a couple of people leaving the comfort of their houses for errands or to take watch along the walls.

Carol sat in the window seat with a blanket around her shoulders, legs drawn up, still in a pair of flannel pyjama pants and an oversized sweater. A mug of tea was warming her hands, and she forced herself to ignore the restlessness and twitching in her limbs that fought against idleness. The idea of a 'lazy day' at the end of the world just hadn't existed until now, and hadn't existed for her long before that. But that was something that _people_ used to do. The baking had been part of her mask, yes (a mask that was still all too tempting to slip back on again), but there was no lie in the way that it kept her distracted and her hands busy. She'd let all pretence fall away though, the day she'd walked back through the community gates, hand in hand with Daryl, reminding her that she wasn't alone, that she didn't need the facade.

She had unlocked the pain and grief and let it spill over, feeling like some days it would drown her completely. But Daryl kept her tethered and afloat, and when she looked at him she felt a sense of calm in the chaos of her emotions. So instead of making for the kitchen she sat in the grey dawn light, listening as the rain and the wind lashed against the house, the windows; watching the rivulets of water that were running down the street.

The rest of the house was asleep, she guessed, until she heard soft footfalls on the stairs and knew without looking who they belonged to. She could no doubt identify any of her family from the sound of them moving, a product of sometimes spending days on the road together in silence, soundless communication to avoid attracting attention. But the way she was attuned to Daryl, the way she swore she could feel him enter a room by the shift in space, the way they'd always fallen into each other's orbit, even from the beginning, well it was something entirely different.

"Hey." It was a soft rumble as he approached her, and she turned to him then, taking in the long sleeved shirt under his vest, the jeans, down to his boots, and wondered if he'd intended to go out hunting.

"Hey," She returned, offering a small fleeting smile, "I hope you aren't planning on going out in this."

He made a 'pfft' noise and nudged her knee until she let one foot drop to the floor, leaving a space for him to sit, "Gone out in worse before."

"I already feel like a loose end, don't put me to shame by going out and doing something useful while I'm just sat here." Carol sighed, looking away from his soft, concerned gaze. Always concerned, always full of an aching tenderness she would never feel she deserved.

"Well, I'm sat here with you, now. Guess I ain't going nowhere." She looked back in time to see that subtle twitch of his lips, tugging at the corner of his mouth: the elusive Daryl Dixon smile.

"You gonna play hooky with me, Daryl?" It felt good to tease him; like, for a second, they were back at the prison when everything seemed a little lighter for that short span of time, and she was the person she was supposed to be. Predictably he let out an amused huff and ducked his head, peeking at her through his fringe.

"We can do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want..." She mused, staring back out at the rain again and considering how strange that statement was to her. What she wanted never really seemed to have been part of the equation for as long as she could remember, beyond wanting to keep other people safe and alive. First Sophia, then her post-Turn family.

"S'weird," He murmured, "Ain't something I ever thought about neither."

It was a beautiful and terrifying thing, how well he knew her; how often the tragedy of their respective pasts put them on the same wavelength. She often wondered how a conversation between the two of them might sound to someone on the outside, listening in. How their shared history and experiences made brief words and silences heavy with meaning and understanding.

Her heart ached for him, "You deserve to have things that you want." Him, of all people.

"So do you." He was staring at her intently, as if he knew how denial had quickly flooded through her at his words, "You do."

Carol tried to smile, but knew that it was a sad, pathetic thing; as if she'd ever gotten what she wanted. But Daryl shuffled closer and rested a hand, gently, lightly, on the knee she still had propped up on the seat beside him. The affectionate touch, so rarely bestowed, both grounded her and made a sudden warmth rush through her. Because, of course, there _was_ something she wanted, something she'd wanted for so long that she'd learnt to tuck it away into a corner of her heart, and only take it out to dwell on it when there was nothing else to distract her. The nights she lay sleepless and haunted by all the ghosts that followed her now. Whether Daryl lay mere inches away from her or if there were walls and miles separating them, she'd think about crossing that final distance between them.

And in moments like this, where it was just her and Daryl, existing in their own little bubble, and his attention was entirely focused on her, it was impossible not to yearn to be closer. Since Terminus, since Daryl had ran to her like she was an oasis in a desert and swept her off her feet; since the day he took her in his arms and cradled her close, outside the house she had hidden away in from the world, whispering a promise that _this ain't goodbye_ , it felt like they were hovering ever closer to the cusp of that _thing_ she yearned for.

He was looking at her now, blue eyes beautiful and piercing, so often obscured by his hair, and God how she hoped he felt it too. The only thing that had always been stronger than the way she wanted him was her fear of losing him.

His thumb rubbed the fabric of her pyjamas idly, still holding her in his gaze, and when he spoke it sounded even quieter and rougher than before.

"You should just... do something for you, today. Every other lazy asshole in this house seems to be."

Carol couldn't help the breath of laughter that escaped, or the genuine smile that had Daryl looking at her like his day had already been made for having drawn that reaction from her. She reached out to gently brush his hair away from his forehead, a touch that was intimate but still familiar ground between them. Daryl didn't flinch away, his eyes even fluttered closed for a moment. It always struck her, how hers seemed to be the only touch he ever welcomed.

She hadn't prayed in a long, long time, but Carol prayed now that she wasn't about to ruin everything they were for one moment of selfishness.

She slid her hand down to the side of his neck, just resting, not pulling, as she carefully leaned closer, her heart pounding, watching Daryl watching her, his eyes slightly wider. He didn't pull away, even as she moved slowly, making her intentions clear, giving him time to stop what she had set into motion. But still her bravery only took her so far, up to the point where they were sharing heated breaths, and she met his eyes, so close, so _blue_ , silently pleading him to meet her halfway. There was a pause, a heartbeat, two, a flash of resolve in his eyes that she barely glimpsed, before he closed that final gap and his lips were brushing hers.

It was so achingly sweet and chaste that Carol felt like she was about to cry. No one would look at Daryl Dixon, the rough, scowling exterior, and think him capable of kissing someone like this. But this was _her_ Daryl. Her Daryl touched her and spoke to her softly, with infinite love and support. Her Daryl pulled away just enough to look at her again and give her a shy smile that tugged at that place, deep in her chest, where she'd hidden every secret thought of the two of them together.

Carol took it as permission and drew him in this time, fingers sliding into his hair, and capturing his bottom lip between hers. Daryl opened for her, but still clearly followed her lead, tentative only out of a nervousness that Carol could feel fading the longer they kept kissing. They found their rhythm fairly quickly, as they did with all things, lips meeting and parting, learning, tasting, and when Daryl brought a hand up to cup her face, the other sliding slowly from her knee to her thigh, she smiled against his mouth.

That they were finally letting themselves have this now, in this quiet moment, rather than something born of urgency and desperation, or fear that their time had run out, made it all the more real. They got to work past the nervous and clumsy beginnings to leisurely perfect the ways they could fit together, to the point where Daryl felt bold enough to hook that hand under her knee and pull her into his lap.

Her gasp of surprise was lost between their mouths, but Carol had to break the kiss to giggle into his neck and they wrapped their arms around each other. Daryl nuzzled her jaw, and for a moment she let herself simply revel in the happiness and love that was washing over her.

She stroked his hair and whispered in his ear, "I think I know what I want to do today."

His laugh was a hot puff of breath against her neck, and he hummed his agreement, one hand trailing up and down her spine. Then he was kissing his way back up to her mouth and lightly running his tongue over her bottom lip. Carol opened up to him completely with a contented hum.

This was what lazy days were for.


End file.
